The Right Time by Hoodfabulous
by Midnight Delight NYE Contest
Summary: A lumpy borrowed couch, old eighties movies, and new love interest are all the ingredients Bella Swan needs to ring in the new year.


**Contest entry for the Midnight Delight NYE Contest**

 **Title:** The Right Time

 **Pairing:** Edward and Bella

 **Rating:** M

 **Word Count:** 5,903

 **Summary:** A lumpy borrowed couch, old eighties movies, and new love interest are all the ingredients Bella Swan needs to ring in the new year.

 **Disclaimer:** Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephanie Meyer. Original creation, including but not limited to plot and characters, is copyright to the respective authors of each story. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **The Right Time**

 _December 26th, 2018_

Oh my God, there's a dead guy in my brother's living room.

At least, I think he's dead. He looks pretty dead from where I'm standing near the entrance leading into the living room at my brother's place. Face-down on Jasper's threadbare, blue couch, the guy's unmoving. His skin is pale, practically blinding me from the morning sun spilling into the room through the blinds. There's a Celtic tree of life tattooed on his back, and my lady bits weep a little at the sight. Tattoos do crazy things like that to me. The jeans he's wearing are low on his hips. The edge of his underwear peeps out from underneath the worn, denim fabric.

 _Hello, boxer briefs._

Okay, there's no way I know for certain that he's wearing boxer briefs, but I'm _imagining_ he's wearing boxer briefs. Boxer briefs are hot on men. The way the soft cotton hugs the guy in all the right places …

But I digress.

Back to the hot dead guy.

On my brother's couch.

A fine sheen of sweat breaks out across my face. Could be because, even though it's mid-December it's still sixty-seven degrees outside, yet Jasper's still got the heat kicked up to seventy. Could be because I'm wearing a cardigan over my shirt, along with my fuzzy boots (required footwear for all basic white girls beginning in October and ending somewhere between March and April). Could be the piping-hot, venti pumpkin spice latte I chugged before pulling into the driveway.

Could be because there's a dead guy on Jasper's couch.

Moving my feet forward, I peer over the giant cardboard box I'm holding. I'd brought it over with the purpose of packing away all Jasper's Christmas decorations. If not for me, the house would be bare of all holiday essentials. No tree, no tinsel. No snow globes. None of those Santa-shaped head-bobber thingies. No plastic reindeer that poops out chocolate candy. I'd arrived in town back in October to put up the tree and hang the stockings. Of course, Jasper thought I was crazy to decorate that early, but I'm not. I just love Christmas.

Speaking of holiday decorations, the dead guy has some of that silver, shiny garland draped across his shoulders. I toss the empty box to the floor and poke one manicured nail on the guy's upper back. The kid doesn't move. I poke a little harder and try to remember basic life support, but then I remember I never _learned_ basic life support. Mom taught me the Heimlich maneuver once. Well, she didn't technically _teach_ it to me so much as she _performed_ it on me.

Stupid oversized gumball lodged in my stupid throat.

There's a low rumbling sound muffled by the pillow the guy's face is pressed against. My heart speeds, then slows minutely. He's not dead! He's alive! Hallelujah! I poke him a little harder and lift his arm where it dangles from the couch. It falls limply back into its original position. I give his garland necklace a little tug. The guy groans again, turns his head to the side, and squints up at me.

He's cute. For a ginger and all.

"Hey, Red. You okay?" I ask, because everyone with red hair loves being called "Red" by strangers.

It's a proven fact.

It's almost as funny as being called a ginger.

Almost.

Red pushes himself up on one elbow and rakes his fingers through his hair. "Do I know you?"

"Bella Swan." I blow a strand brown hair out of my eyes as I pick up the empty box and move to the mantle.

The couch squeaks behind me. "Jasper's little sister?"

"That's me. Who are you?" Some of the snow globes are tipped over. One is broken, the water inside long dried up. Bits of fake snow are plastered against the wood. I scrape at it with my thumbnail, but it doesn't move.

"I'm Edward," he says. "Jasper's new roommate. Here, let me help you with that."

Edward joins me at the mantel and the two of us work quietly beside one another. A few times I catch him watching me, and he offers me a smile. His teeth are white and straight, and his nose is a little crooked. I smile in return, grateful he's not dead because he's so pretty and I don't mind the way he smiles at me.

And also because being dead probably sucks.

"So, what were you and Jasper celebrating last night?" I ask.

"Celebrating?"

I gesture around the room at the overflowing bowl of stale tortilla chips flanked by a couple empty cups of salsa. The Christmas tree is leaning precariously against the wall. A few empty, crushed cans of Jasper's favorite brew overflow from the wastebasket.

"We were celebrating Jasper's freedom."

"Freedom from what?" Then it hits me. I turn to my new friend, lip tucked between my teeth in anticipation. "Jasper broke up with Maria?"

Edward's eyes widen, and he nods. "Jasper broke up with Maria."

"That _is_ something to celebrate," I admit, then add, "This house smells like stale ass."

Edward snorts. "How exactly does stale ass smell?"

"Like this house," I deadpan.

"Ha-ha."

After packing away all the decorations and collecting the trash, I break out the vacuum, broom, and Pine-Sol. Surprisingly, Edward jumps right in, cleaning alongside me. He's still shirtless, and I can't help but stare at his perfect pecs and washboard abs. There's a little tuft of auburn hair trailing from below his belly button and into the Promised Land. I want to pitch a tent there and sing "Hallelujah."

"Put on a shirt," I grumble. "You're distracting me."

"How am I distracting you?" Smiling, he leans against the bar in the kitchen, arms crossed, legs crossed at the ankles. He's barefoot. No hair on his toes (I checked) and his toenails are clean and perfectly trimmed.

This guy's the only guy in existence with sexy feet because gross. Feet are just gross.

"Wouldn't _I_ be distracting if I walked around without a shirt?"

Edward shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know. Take off your shirt and let's find out."

Without missing a beat, I peel off my fitted top and toss it on the bar. I'd already lost my cardigan a long time ago.

The cocky smile on Edward's face melts away, and his eyes zone in on my chest. "Holy shit."

"I know, right?" I wiggle a little, back and forth. "Got these babies back in sixth grade and they haven't stopped growing since. I think it's from all the growth hormones they pump into our poultry nowadays. Nice, huh?"

He nods again, gaze still unmoving from my chest. "Thank God for Tyson chicken."

I grin in response. My buddy Rose and I went shopping in Victoria's Secret recently (Black Friday Sale). We both bought these killer matching bra and panty sets. Silky pink with black lace edges. Since it's difficult to find a bra that fits me perfectly, the cups tend to runneth over a bit. Edward looks like he appreciates my abundance of blessings. When I feel like I've made my point, I pull the shirt back over my head and drag it back into place.

Now Edward's the one sweating.

"You're kinda crazy, Bella Swan," he says, finding his own shirt and tugging it down over his fine, fine body.

"Nah, not really. I'm just still kinda drunk from last night. I did a little celebrating myself."

Edward reaches for a wool pad and thoroughly cleans the sink. "Break up with your boyfriend?"

I hop up onto the bar beside him. "Sort of, yeah."

"Ouch, rough night for Maria _and_ Bella's ex."

"What about you? You single?" I sort of nudge his side with the tip of my boot. "Sexy, single, and ready to mingle?" I wag my eyebrows like a pervy old man.

Edward tosses the wool pad in the trash, washes his hands, and dries them on the checkered hand towel hanging from the handle of the stove. "Why, you interested?" His eyebrows quirk upward. A smile teases his lips.

A flurry of heat spreads up my chest. "You know what they say. The best way to get over someone is to get under—"

"Bells?" Jasper's groggy voice interrupts me from humiliating myself any further. "What are you doing here?"

"Mercilessly flirting with me." Edward winks and slithers off somewhere, leaving me to fend for myself.

Honestly, I'm not really flirting with the guy. Never have I ever had a one-night stand. Prior to today, I'd been in a five-year relationship with Mike Newton. He was my first.

I thought he'd be my last.

Okay, so maybe I was flirting a little. What was the harm in that? It was kinda corny. Kinda fun. I've never taken my shirt off for anyone other than that a-hole Mike. Now that I've done it in front of an utter stranger, it won't be hard to do it in front of my next love interest, right?

Kind of like ripping off a band-aid.

 _Rippp._

Jasper glances around the room, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "You cleaned."

"Yup."

"And took down all the Christmas decorations."

"Yup again."

Jasper squints. "You never take down the tree before January first."

"Thought I'd get a head-start on it this year." I shrug.

Jasper's quiet for a few seconds, and then, "Bells, what's going on?"

"Mike and I broke up."

"That's why you were hitting on my roommate?"

"I wasn't hitting on your roommate."

Jasper's eyes narrow. I throw up my hands in exasperation.

"Um, he's gorgeous. Of course I was flirting with him." I tap my bottom lip. "You know, I'm feeling awfully sisterly all of a sudden. Maybe I should spend some more time with my bro."

"Bella—"

Clearing my throat, I say, "But really. I _must_ spend more time with you, Bro. Because I sort of have no place to go now that Mike and I are over. And you know I can't go back home to Dad. We drive each other nuts."

"What about Mom?"

"I'm not staying with our middle-age mother and her most recent man-boy love interest. Come on, Jas."

Mom left Dad three years ago in pursuit of another man. A guy I went to _high school_ with.

If you can even call an eighteen-year-old boy a man.

We're the laughing stock of our podunk town. I can't blame Jasper for moving away after graduation, even if it is only one county away.

"Phil's kind of sleezy, Jas. You remember how he was always 'accidentally' jangling the doorknob while I was taking a shower?"

"Yeah, the guy's a jerk." Jasper rubs the rough, blond bristle shadowing his jawline. "Look, Bells. You can crash here until you and Mike get over your shit."

There'll be no getting over this shit, but I can't blame Jas for thinking anything different. Mike and I have certainly had our ups and downs over the past couple years.

"Thing is," he continues, "where do you plan on sleeping? It's a two bedroom and Edward's taking up the spare."

I open my mouth, but he stops me by raising his hand palm-forward to silence me. "And no, I'm not kicking him out. He's a paying tenant."

Pressing my hand against my chest, I exclaim, "I would _never_ suggest such a thing. Kicking a poor guy like that out on the street? Who would take in such a vile looking creature?"

Jasper rolls his eyes.

"Fine, Jas. I'll take the couch." Eyeballing the coat closet near the front door, I'm already wondering if it'll hold a fourth of the clothes I've got thrown in the trunk of my car. Probably not. Even the backseat is overflowing with my belongings.

"Where'd you find Edward, anyway?" Crouching behind the bar, I rummage around in the cabinets for a frying pan. "Local CrossFit competition? Did you put a 'searching for hot, male roommate' ad on Craigslist?"

"Actually, I _did_ meet him at the university's gym during first semester."

"Ah, a fellow student. What's his major?"

"Pre-med."

Now I'm the one rolling my eyes. "Of course he is."

Riding on a partial football scholarship, Jasper is also pre-med. Luckily it's never gone to his head.

Jasper doesn't have many groceries. Mostly organic shit and some foul-smelling protein powder. Hidden in the dark recesses of an upper cabinet I finally find a forgotten box of pancake mix. Meh, it's not technically homemade like our grandmother used to make, but it'll do.

"What are you making?"

"Pancakes." I coat the pan with vegetable oil and turn the burner on. "Without syrup apparently. Although I did find some organic honey that'll work in a pinch."

"Edward's a big health food nut," Jasper explains.

"That explains his rock-hard abs and zero-percent body fat."

"Hey, I know how weird you get when you and Mike fight, but I'm really gonna need you to tone it down with Edward."

"Weird? I have no idea what you mean."

"The heavy flirting. The sexual innuendos."

"Again, I have no idea what you mean."

"Remember Tyler Crowley? You had that guy panting so hard. The poor kid was ready to get down on one knee and propose. Then you're back with Mike a few days later."

"You know I'm only kidding around when I do that." The pancake on the pan bubbles on top, sticking to the pan a little when I flip it over to brown it on the opposite side.

"Yeah, but he doesn't know that."

Speaking of _he_.

Edward renters the room, his hair a shade darker, slightly damp, and smelling like some heavenly scented shampoo prepared by the gods. He's wearing a pair of soft, worn jeans and a gray Henley. Still no shoes but I'm not complaining. If feet were sexy, he'd be the king of sexy feet.

I remove the last pancake from the pan, turn off the heat, and face my newest roommate.

"I apologize for the flirting," I tell him. "And showing you my amazing boobs."

Jasper's mouth gapes open, but I forge ahead.

"I was blunt and crass earlier, and I sincerely apologize. The only reason I act the way I do is because I suffer from extremely poor self-esteem and severe internal self-deprecation. The confidence and general sluttiness I exude is a complete facade. A coping mechanism, if you will, triggered by the devastation of yet another breakup with my high school boyfriend. Honestly, I'd never seriously throw myself at you. Not for real."

The casual smile he held when he entered the room slips. His forehead wrinkles in thought, and he looks like he wants to ask me something. Then he side-eyes Jasper as if he's noticing him in the room for the first time.

"Whatcha got going on there?" Edward nods at the stack of steaming pancakes. I know it's not what he wants to say, but he says it anyway.

"Oh, pancakes. Completely organic." Taking a step to the left, I block his view of the pancake mix package behind me.

"Organic pancakes?"

"Yup. Made with … wheat? Yeah, wheat. Picked the wheat myself. Ground it into a fine powder, added sugar from the sugar canes growing out back. Milked old Bessie this morning and threw a splash of milk into the bowl. Gathered the eggs from the chicken coop before the rooster crowed this morning. Oh, and the spat of butter on top was hand-churned, of course. Enjoy."

~ TRT ~

 _December 27, 2018_

After waking up on Jasper's lumpy couch, waiting my turn to take a shower, and preparing a breakfast high in cholesterol, carbs, and saturated fat, I meet my friend Vicky at the gym.

Cool air and the scent of ripe body odor slap me in the face as we push open the glass doors. It's like a foreshadowing of what's to come. "This is a mistake."

"A terrible mistake," she agrees.

"Why do we subject ourselves to this humiliation year after year?"

"Because we have an everlasting desire to be thin and beautiful?" she guesses.

"Fucking societal standards."

Vicky hums in agreement but still we trudge forward. We find the main office and stand warily outside. A living, breathing Ken doll beams at us from inside the room and practically leaps over his desk to greet us.

"Ladies! Ready to make those New Year's resolutions?"

Vicky nods eagerly. I shrug and say, "She is. I'm just here for the free t-shirt."

Ken's smile wavers. Vicky nudges me in my ribs. "She's kidding. Yes, we're ready to be thin and beautiful."

"You've already got the beautiful part right." The bastard has the audacity to give us both an appreciative wink.

"But not thin," I say. "You just totally pointed out that we're not thin."

Ken's mouth opens and closes like a fish.

"Kidding," I say. "Kidding." But I'm not. The unintentional jab stings. "You gonna give us that free t-shirt or what?"

Six hours later, after stopping by the grocery store and loading up on bags of salad mix that'll eventually ruin and transform into a leaky mush in the fridge before either of us consume it, Vicky and I are sitting on my new bed, AKA Jasper's couch. We're stuffing ourselves with chips, salsa, and sharing a pint of Cherry Garcia. Tears stain our cheeks. We're celebrating our last few days of fatness by gorging on Christmas movies and simple carbs.

"Fucking Hallmark bullshit." Vicky sobs. The handsome prince on the screen whisks away a poor girl who's running her family's struggling bakery. The prince takes her away to lavish her in love and luxury for the rest of her days in the land of Genovia, or Cornucopia, or some other imaginary country that ends in 'ia.'"

"You think it's because we're not tall? Or blonde? Or skinny?" I rub a tear from one cheek. "We've got the pretty and poor thing down pat, according to our gym instructor and our dwindling bank accounts."

"We should dye our hair," Vicky proclaims as the closing credits scroll across the screen.

Vicky's a natural redhead, the type of red you can't get in a salon. She's never really cut her hair. She's only kept it trimmed over the years. It's long enough to sit on now, and ripples down her back in large waves.

"There's no way you're dying your hair." I finger one strand of my mousy brown hair. "Yours is gorgeous. But mine …"

Two hours later I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror, no longer a brunette, but a voluptuous blonde.

"Holy shit," I say.

"Holy shit," Vicky agrees.

A third voice speaks up. "Holy shit."

Vicky and I both scream at the unexpected, gravelly male voice. Edward's reflection stares back at me in the mirror. I elbow him in the chest without ever turning around.

"Warn a girl before you sneak up on her."

After introducing Edward to Vicky, he joins us on the lumpy couch. I drag Granny Swan's afghan off the back and share it with my couch mates.

"Another Hallmark Christmas movie?" Vicky inquires.

"Nope. Time for some _Sixteen Candles_."

Edward steals the spoonful of ice cream hovering near my mouth. Wagging his eyebrows, he wraps those sweet lips around the spoon, licking the shiny utensil before returning it to the carton. After scooping out another spoonful of the sugary goodness, he raises the spoon to my mouth. Obediently, I part my lips, take what he gives me, and swallow like the good girl that I am.

 _Hot damn._

He smiles at my stunned expression. "Suffice it to say you're into eighties movies?"

"Yup. When I was a kid my mom and I would wrap up in this very afghan on rainy days and watch movies from her childhood."

"Sounds nice."

"It was. Until she screwed a guy I invited to my high school graduation party and then turned into the town whore."

Vicky coughs, sputters and stands. "Okay, that's my cue to leave." She stretches and reaches for her hoodie. "Holler at me tomorrow, Bells."

Vicky kisses my cheek before she exits into the newfound chill. I stretch out under the afghan. My bare toes poke Edward's leg. I start to draw my knees to my chest to give him room, but he stops me by gently wrapping his hand around one ankle and placing it on his lap. His thumb presses deep into my insole, and I release a startled moan. He shifts at the sound and presses deeper, chuckling when I offer up my other foot. All thoughts of my mother flutter away under his touch. The opening credits to the movie begin, and the delicious stroke of Edward's thumb eventually lulls me to sleep.

 _~ TRT ~_

 _December 28th, 2018_

The following morning, Mike Newton's standing on the square patch of dead grass my brother calls a lawn. He's holding what looks like his dad's old boombox over his head. An old familiar tune pours from the speakers.

Edward joins me at the window, wiping the sleep from his eyes. We'd fallen asleep together on the couch last night, my legs resting in his lap. When I awoke this morning, I'd scrambled off the couch after my leg brushed against his massive morning wood. The friction of my foot withdrew a sexy, sleepy moan from deep inside his chest, but he never woke.

Edward peers through the window. "Who's that and what the hell is he doing?"

"That's Mike, my ex. And he's trying to recreate a Lloyd and Diane moment, but failing miserably."

"Lloyd and Diane. What?"

"Two characters from one of my favorite eighties movies," I explain with a disappointed sigh. "It'd be romantic if "In Your Eyes" were playing instead of "Love Will Conquer All," but playing the wrong song is typical Mike."

"Maybe he's putting his own personal spin on it?"

"No, he's just a clueless dumbass."

We stand and quietly watch him for a few more seconds.

"You plan on ending his misery any time soon?"

"Not until his arms wear out and he can't hold that boombox up any longer."

The song must be on repeat. It plays twice more before his arms finally give in to exhaustion. Mike places the boombox on the hood of his car and glares at the window. He can totally see us peering through the glass.

"Guess I better take him out back and shoot him."

Edward quirks a brow. "What'd you say?"

"I said I guess I better go out there and confront him."

"You want me to go with you?"

Instead of replying, I shake my head.

Mike's disgruntled expression turns into a knowing smirk once I step outside and cross the lawn. I'm still wearing the oversized sweatshirt and soft cotton shorts I wore to sleep. The cold air punches me, sending goosebumps along my skin. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I approach Mike slowly like I'm a wounded dog.

"You look good, Bells." His gaze flits across my body, landing on my newly blonde hair. "I like the blonde."

I make a mental note to dye my hair back to mousy brown ASAP.

"What do you want, Mike?"

"You know what I want, baby. I want you." He cups a hand to my cheek, stroking the curve of my jaw. The touch of his thumb is tender, but his fingers tighten behind my neck as I try to move away.

"Stop, Mike. You're being rough again. Jasper's inside."

"Like I give a shit about your pussy-ass brother."

Mike and Jasper have never gotten along. Jasper's legacy continued long after he graduated high school and moved out of town to live closer to college. Three years later, Mike took over Jasper's position on the high school football team, but he lacked the same skill and talent that always came easily to my brother.

Jasper led the team to State three years in a row.

The team won. Again, and again.

A feat Mike could never accomplish.

But still, Mike was popular. He was cute, and his family had money. Sometimes I wonder if the only reason he chose me out of all the girls in high school was because of my brother's reputation. Jasper was popular therefore I became popular by association. There were prettier girls always after him. Smarter girls. Thinner girls. Girls whose family didn't have such a bad reputation.

Still, he picked me.

But now, I believe he chose me because of Jasper, the closest Mike would ever get to becoming a high school legend. Kind of a way to stick it to him.

High school's been over for three years.

Time to grow up and move on.

Mike saw some sort of revelation in my expression, because he loosened his grip minutely, stroking my cheek once more. "We can work this out."

"I don't think so."

"We always do."

I shake my head. "Not anymore."

Anger flashes in his eyes. "You started the argument. This is your fault."

"You hurt me," I whisper. "Again."

The malevolence on his face shifts into desperation. "Please, Bella. I'll change. I'll never do it again. You know I love you. No one will ever love you the way I do."

Tired of hearing the same broken record, I try to withdraw, but he pulls me against him. His eyes darken, hungry and mean. Black tendrils of fear seep into my veins. I shove my hands against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tries to wrench my face up to his. Bile rises in the back of my throat.

"Hey, hey!" someone shouts.

Mike's tight hold loosens at the sound of the loud male voice, just enough for me to wiggle away. Before I can completely comprehend what's happening, Edward passes me. His fist pitches forward, colliding against Mike's jaw. Mike falls to the ground, one hand cradling his injured jaw, the other hand scraped, bleeding, yet still holding up his weight. Edward looms over him. Mike scuttles backwards like a crab.

"Don't you ever touch her again, you hear me?"

Of course he hears him. The entire neighborhood hears him. A nosy neighbor steps outside onto her porch. Mr. Smith from next door pauses beside his pickup truck and stares at us, a bag of groceries drawn against his chest.

Using his car handle for leverage, Mike climbs to his feet. He cranks his vehicle and peels out of the driveway backwards. His daddy's boombox bounces off the hood and onto the ground, smashing against the concrete drive. I expect him to scurry away like the coward that he is, but instead he rolls down his passenger window and yells, "I was done with the fat bitch anyway," before gunning his car down the road.

Instead of hot tears of heartache spilling down my cheeks, I feel nothing but the numbness of shame. Edward runs down the driveway after him, his feet still bare. Mike's long gone by then, leaving a cloud of exhaust billowing behind. Edward returns to where I'm sitting on the ground. He extends a hand, but I ignore it and stand, dusting off the back of my shorts and turning to the house.

"Don't you listen to him, Bella," Edward says, his voice angry enough to make me pause. "There's nothing wrong with you. He's the one who's damaged."

I open my mouth to speak, but for the first time in my life there's nothing left for me to say.

 _~ TRT ~_

 _December 29th and 30th, 2018_

I spend the next two days caught between throwing myself into my job and crashing at Vicky's tiny apartment.

I've become quite fond of couches.

Jasper calls to check on me twice but doesn't mention Mike. I know Edward didn't divulge what happened or Mike would be sporting more than a sore jaw.

The thought of Edward covering for me while I hide in shame warms my cold, dead heart.

 _~ TRT ~_

 _December 31st, 2018_

After two days of avoiding Edward and Jasper, and dodging Mike's calls, I decide to return home to my cozy, albeit lumpy couch.

The porch light is on, and I recognize the dim light of the lamp casting a warm glow from inside the living room, but otherwise the house appears suspiciously empty. Jasper's truck is gone, but the sensible, family sedan I've come to recognize as Edward's is parked to the side of the muddy drive. I wonder if he's home.

Alone.

Without my brother anywhere near.

And I wonder if my embarrassment over what happened with Mike will return once I see Edward, or will it dissipate entirely? Either way, I can't avoid him forever.

The front door is unlocked, so I step inside.

I'm immediately rooted into place.

There're a few cheap decorations hanging haphazardly around the room. A '2019' banner here. White, silver, and gold balloons there. I toss my purse on the couch and walk over to the bar. There's one lone party hat sitting on the Formica, begging to be worn, so I put it on. I pick up a noisemaker and spin it around it my hand. It makes a cranking sound, loud enough to wake the dead.

"This is like the world's saddest New Year's Eve Party," I yell, because I know he's here somewhere. I smell his shampoo.

There's an amused chuckle down the hall leading to his room. "I thought you'd appreciate the effort. I remember how much you like holidays and celebrations."

"You did all this for me?" I call out. "How'd you know I'd be back tonight?"

"I didn't. Thought I'd take a chance."

Smiling, I return the noisemaker to the bar and walk down the hallway to his bedroom.

Big mistake.

 _Holy hamstrings, even his legs are hot._

He's wearing nothing but a low-slung towel, his back facing me. There're deep grooves of muscle dipping into his lower back. He rummages around in a drawer, probably looking for socks or underwear.

Lord forbid. Forget the underwear.

He catches my open-mouthed expression in the reflection of the dresser mirror. His cheeks blossom into a charming shade of pink. Mumbling an apology, I move out of the doorway and return to the kitchen bar.

There's this tingling, needy sensation between my legs that I haven't felt in a while. Not since the first time Mike started roughing me up nearly a year ago.

Hard for me to find an abuser sexually attractive.

"Sorry about that." Edward joins me, freshly groomed and properly clothed. He gestures to my scrubs and quirks his head to one side.

"Didn't know you worked in healthcare."

The subject helps wipe away the embarrassment from a few moments ago. "Yeah, OTA."

"What made you choose that line of work?"

"My grandmother had a stroke when I was younger. She couldn't pick up a glass on her weak side. Couldn't brush her teeth. Couldn't move from the wheelchair to the toilet without help. I remember how the staff at the rehab helped her learn how to function again. Their dedication inspired me. And that was that. What about you? What made you want to be a doctor?"

Edward's gaze drifts downward to the bar before picking back up again and meeting my eye. "I had a sister who died when she was six. Leukemia."

"Oh my God, Edward. I'm so sorry." My hand lands on his arm and I give it a squeeze. He stares at it until I begin to pull away. But he stops me by taking my hand in his, swirling his thumb around my palm and using that deep, sensual stroke of his.

 _Lord have mercy._

"You thirsty?" The abrupt change in topic sends my head spinning. "I put some champagne on ice."

 _Champagne on ice … what the hell?_

As usual, I lean on humor as my crutch. "Is that keeping in line with your strict diet regimen?"

He smiles at my tease, his gaze drifting to my lips. Before I comprehend what he's doing, he leans forward, pressing his mouth against mine and swallowing my surprised gasp. The kiss isn't really a kiss. It's a soft brush of lips. A promise of something yet to come, when and _if_ I'm ready for it.

And then it's over.

Edward pops the cork on the champagne and pours a glass. He brings it to my lips, a sweet smile on his face. Hesitantly, I take a swig, my nose tickling from the bubbles. When he tilts the glass away from my mouth, I stop him, finishing off the drink.

Then I go for the bottle.

The entire bottle.

Watching me with an amused grin, he props himself on the counter, tweaking the tips of my newly blonde hair.

"I love the chocolate brown, but the blonde is also nice."

"Mike likes the blonde too."

Edward's eyes cloud over. "Maybe you should go back to brown."

Laughing, I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and set the bottle aside. "Are you jealous of Mike?"

I expect him to crack a smile, but his face remains serious. "Only because he's had you."

 _Oh, damn._

"Is that so?" I attempt a smirk, but it doesn't reach my face. "I'm not really your type."

"How do you know my type? We just met."

Snorting, I say, "I doubt a self-conscious overweight OTA is your type."

Edward slowly rounds the bar, places his hand on the small of my back and brings me flush against him. I let out a little squeak of surprise.

"Everyone's a little self-conscious about something. Their height, weight. The way they walk or talk." His eyes roam my face. "As far as your body is concerned? Your body is fucking _divine_."

 _Holy shit, the tingles have returned._

"Edward—"

His nose skims the curve of my jaw. Sweet, feather-light kisses pepper my neck. He whispers low in my ear. "One day, when you're ready, I'll show you _exactly_ how divine. I want to worship at the altar of your body. I want to show you how a man is _really_ supposed to treat a woman."

Those long fingers of his on the small of my back dip lower, past the drawstring waist of my scrubs. I stiffen momentarily, unfamiliar with the sensation of someone other than Mike touching me. Anticipating my reaction, he slows down the movement of his hand, carefully watching my face for any hesitation and finding none.

My eyes are wide when his lips touch mine for the second time. The breath in my throat hitches when his hand glides underneath my underwear. He cups my bare ass, giving it a little squeeze. Any uncertainty I held melts away when his tongue meets mine. We exchange heated kisses, taking our sweet time to learn what the other likes.

For the first time I hear soft music coming from a Bluetooth speaker in the living room. _"_ In Your Eyes" plays softly in the background. Edward must feel me pause when I hear the song. His forehead touches mine, and he chuckles.

"I'm sorry. Guess I'm coming on kind of strong." His voice is quiet, sweet, and … self-conscious? "Too soon?"

I toy with the silky strands of hair near the collar of his shirt, and slowly sway along with the lyrics of the song. The clock in the living room chimes twelve. I press a kiss against his lips. For the first time in forever, I look forward to the new year.

"No, not too soon. You arrived at exactly the right time."

* * *

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